DragonBall: The Tale of my Family
by Space-Weazel
Summary: Piccolo always wanted a famliy of his own, even though he would never admit it. When his world crashes down due to his own failure as a father, what will he do?


He looks at me with eyes as pure as crystal pools. His lips remain a thin line, so emotionless, but consumed with sorrow. Face serene as heaven. A dull glow encircles his face telling you all in silence. There was nothing and everything packed so completely in one moment, the moment he looks into your eyes, and you in his. That is all you need know, for the time will come when you see him yourself. Be it in an alley, office, or darkness, he will find you. And when he does, your journey shall begin. Will you be ready?  
  
The Agency. Two words that will haunt me forever, a place burned so savagely into my memory. People may say I had no business picking up that hideous 'monster' out of the dumpster, they lied. The only thing that scares me was what would have happened if I didn't. It, no, he would have become a real monster if I hadn't. Monster. I hate that word. No child should have to deal with the piercing screams of mothers protecting their young all because he is different. Sometimes I wish I could have taken the pain away, but he slapped me away. I am not sure why to this day. Maybe because he scorned my pity, refused to be weak, a trait I usually admire. Or he could have seen me as one of them. Whatever the reason, he had no right to do what he did; I though I taught him better.  
  
"You showed me nothing but the hatred that burns in the hearts of men. You think I did all this for me? How foolish can you be? I did it for you, because I cared!"  
  
It didn't have to be that way .  
  
"No, don't you even say it."  
  
She would have wanted it that way.  
  
"Why? Every time I do something selfless you throw it back in my face. Every time . . ."  
  
That's not true, and you know it.  
  
"Then prove to me I'm wrong. Prove to me that I am nothing more than the downfall of your life."  
  
I never said that. If you will just listen for one second, and-  
  
"There's nothing more to say. You came here for a reason, did you not?"  
  
I . . .  
  
"Did you not!"  
  
I did.  
  
"We both know what has to happen today, lets get it over with before we waste anymore time."  
  
As you wish  
  
Rain pours from the gray sky, pelting the barren wasteland that was once Devil's City. The air is heavy with remorse, smoke and the dreadful stench of burning flesh seems to claw at the souls of any man who dare set foot here. The people, long dead, left no signs of ever existing because of him, the monster, no, the man. A skyscraper totters on the brink of collapsing, but it does not matter, not anymore. Finally it falls over, breaking in half in mid-air, desks, papers, and all matter of office supplies block the sky from view. The mighty building slams into the blacktop, twisted metal howls under the intense weight before buckling, shattering whatever remained inside. It still does not matter.  
  
I look back at him. His flowing sliver bangs stick to the pavement as the rain cleanses his blackened heart white. He looks peaceful, more so now than ever.  
  
He lies in a rested position on his side facing me. Like he had when he was a child. Some would say that I am too old to remember such moments as when a rose blooms, or a star dies, even a child's eyes as he looks at you as if you were the only person in the world who mattered. What do they know about those things anyway?  
  
Spider-like strands of hair cling onto his face while the healing rain washes blood away. Blood, red as evening sun drifts down the small river that formed in the street.  
  
I crouch down to bid him farewell one last time. As I extend my hand to touch the light green skin on his face, I pull back. I was not sure what made me do that, honestly I was half expecting him to slap me away, such silly thoughts. After biting my lip I hesitantly lift his chin. His eyes, blue, if I remember correctly were covered by a formerly tan blindfold. When I remove the blood-soaked rag, nothing could have prepared me for what I would see next.  
  
Where his eyes should have been, two gaping holes now resided. Tears formed on the edge of my eye as I peered into the holes. They told me everything I ever needed to know.  
  
Rain started to pour into his sockets; I quickly pulled him close to protect him from an imaginary drowning. Why I did not protect him when he actually needed it is a mystery. We sit there for what seemed like hours, although it was only a few minuets. I talk to him and wait for answers that will not come. I think mostly of blaming myself for his fate, he wouldn't want me to do that either, but it feels like I have to in order to set things right.  
  
Carmine blood stains my violet gi. It doesn't matter. Carefully I let him slide to the ground, guiding him down. He did not deserve this, but he did, he earned every painful moment of his passing. In fact it should have been more excruciating than anything ever imaginable. All those innocent people he cold-heartedly murdered, women, children, it made no difference to him. He killed them all . all for me.  
  
My tears fall at last, although you cannot tell. I look up into the heavens and search for answers to why I hurt from doing what I . . . had . . . to . . . do. Rain keeps drifting down, down, down to earth. Thunder rumbles viciously in the distance. A storm is brewing, perfectly matching the mood.  
  
The small river grows larger, threatening to sweep away all signs of our struggle here. Maybe it is best it does, that way no one has to know what went on here. No one will remember him, as I will. He will go down in history as 'The Angel of Death' or some name as ridiculously inaccurate. But it doesn't matter.  
  
The pitter of soft footsteps echoes in my ears. I do not look, nor move, whoever it is will see me as I am right now.  
  
"Piccolo?" A familiar voice coos.  
  
Still I make no motion.  
  
"Piccolo . . ." the word is repeated.  
  
A reassuring hand is laid on my shoulder. "There's nothing you could do for him. His own hatred consumed him. There is nothing you can do."  
  
Still looking into the sky, time beckons me to answer.  
  
"You're wrong Gohan. Through fighting alongside your father all these years, he taught me one very important thing." I swallowed hard, trying to choke out those last words. "Nobody . has the right to take the life of another"  
  
Gohan knelt beside me and wrapped his arms around my broad, blood soaked chest and rested his head on my shoulder. "It hurts doesn't it?"  
  
Tears now flowed more freely down my cheeks than they ever had before. "It hurts more than death itself."  
  
This only made him squeeze tighter.  
  
"I'm sorry you killed your son . . ." 


End file.
